


A Beautiful Day

by karebear94



Category: Bill Nye the Science Guy, Mister Rogers' Neighborhood, Public Television RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Crack, Gen, I was forced into this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 17:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2034129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karebear94/pseuds/karebear94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Rogers and Bill Nye are Serial Killers, and Mr. Rogers doesn't like the way Bill goes about doing his Killing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Beautiful Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My Sister](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+Sister), [enoughiamagod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/enoughiamagod/gifts).



> This work is dedicated to my sister and enoughiamagod because I was ranting about how I didn't understand why people liked serial killer AUs (sorry, I don't like them.) And then enoughiamagod wanted to do a fic exchange and we had my sister pick the genre. She picked RPF. This is the result. Make sure to read enoughiamagod's as well! (I lovE you both!)

Both men prided themselves on being influential figures on children’s television. Both of them prided themselves MORE on how many kills they’ve been able to get away with. Especially when they passed the other up on the number of people they’ve killed.

These men are probably people you both know from your childhood; people you’ve looked up to your whole life.

That’s exactly what they’re counting on.

Bill Nye and Mr. Rogers meet weekly to discuss (read: compare) their lists. Lately, Mr. Rogers has been in a kind of a slump, while Bill’s popularity has risen since his appearance on Dancing With The Stars. This made it easier for Bill to get some poor mistrusting soul to go with him somewhere isolated, to do what he called “Science Experiments.”

Mr. Rogers would never tell his friend this, but he was a tiny bit jealous (read: absolutely green with envy). Of course, Bill knew this, and took every opportunity to brag about his most recent kill.

“And then I dripped some mercury in the girl’s eyes. About 5 grams in the left, 10 grams in the right. Just to see what would happen. You should have seen the results!”

Mr. Rogers also didn’t like how Bill tortured his targets either. His own prefered method was much better. And taster. And so much more riskier, which made it that much more fun. So, like every week, they found themselves in the usual argument.

“When you get rid of the bodies, you leave nothing left but a punch of hazardous waste, which is normal for a scientist such as yourself. It’s no fun. You should do it my way. Leave a little bit of evidence for the police to chase their tails with. The high of being suspected feels so good, you need to try it sometime, Bill.”

“Oh, Freddie” (Mr. Rogers hated being called Freddie. Or Fred. Or anything other than Mr. Rogers.) “But the experiments are so great. The human body is absolutely fascinating.”

“So are the culinary arts. And the neighbors love the pies.”

“Oh! Who cares about the neighbors! Science is so much better!”

Mr. Rogers was fed up with Bill’s attitude, and he was sure than Bill was provoking him of purpose. If only he could find a way to get rid of his rival. Then a thought dawned on him

“Why don’t I have you for dinner tomorrow night so I can show you some neighborly hospitality, Bill.” Mr. Rogers said. “That way you can see what it means to be a neighbor.”

“Why, sure!” Bill said. He didn’t realize what Mr. Rogers meant, because if you are good at Science, you obviously are not good at English, and therefore at understanding puns or the euphemism of what neighborly hospitality could be. NO ONE who watched Bill Nye also enjoyed Reading Rainbow. That idea is ridiculous.

So, agreeing on a time for their next meeting, Bill left, and Mr. Rogers began to plan. (read: scheme.) He hummed and sang softly as he started his work. “Would you be mine?  
Could you be mine?”

Dinner time the next day came not soon enough for Mr. Rogers. He had been planning all day and decided that his normal routine of cutting up and eating his targets would not due for Bill. He found that, although the man talked a bragged to much, and didn’t kill right, he would miss him if he was gone for good. Fortunately, he already came up with a solution. He had several recipes placed in front of him.

Haggis stew. Fried Cow Brains. Lamb heart Soup, and several other recipes for various internal organs. Nothing For Skin.

Mr. Rogers secretly admitted to himself that sometimes chemicals were useful. If only for stoping the post-mortem stiffness and rotting of the flesh from coming on.

Finally, the time had come. Mr. Rogers’ trap was set, and Bill had finally come. He was going to walk right into the trap. Mr. Rogers’ heart began to quicken in excitement.

“Welcome, Bill!” Mr. Rogers said once his friend (read: victim) rang the doorbell.

He came in. He didn’t have a host gift, or even a salad. Well. That wasn’t very neighborly of him.

“I’m glad I came.” Bill said. “I got another I can add to my list, now! I can’t wait to tell you about it.”

“That’s great, Bill!” Mr. Rogers said with fake cheer. “But first, let me get you something to drink. What’ll it be.”

“Oh, I’ll have water. Water is one of the most amazing chemicals. Don’t you agree?”

“Especially because it dissolves knockout drugs very well.”

Bill laughed at that. Again, he didn’t get English, so he wouldn’t understand that Mr. Rogers was drugging his drink.

Bill drank deeply. He put his glass down with a sigh. His leds began to close, unwillingly.  
“Wait.” he said. “That… that water. It didn’t taste like normal water… what is in it.”

“Just some of this.” Mr. Rogers said, handing Bill the label. His faced dawned with understanding, but it was too late. Mr. Rogers had succeeded.

Bill never woke up.

                                                               **************************

The next week, just after lunchtime, when Bill usually came to Mr. Rogers’ house so they could discuss their weeks, Bill sat down on his couch.

“Well, Bill. I’m sure you’re dying to know who I killed this week.” He said. He chuckled. “Well. I guess you’re not.” he told the stuffed body on the armchair. “You were delicious though.” He said. “The neighbor’s loved you.”

It was a beautiful day.


End file.
